


And As The Clock Turns Over

by PoisonedMind



Series: Spooky Week 2018 [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Established Relationship, M/M, Psychological Horror, Spooky Week (Phandom), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 10:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedMind/pseuds/PoisonedMind
Summary: Dan is handcuffed to the table in an interrogation room at a police station. Why? He honestly doesn’t know.





	And As The Clock Turns Over

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware of the tags!
> 
> The first fic of my Spooky Week fic series

He doesn’t understand why they handcuffed him to the table. He knows they want to interrogate him but he hasn’t done anything. Is everyone handcuffed to the table when interrogated? He hasn’t watched enough crime dramas to know for sure. 

The table is metal and it’s cold to the touch as he rests his folded hands on it. There’s a single light bulb in the ceiling and the light is stark white, clinical, and it makes the grey walls look even more dull. 

It’s silent save for his own breathing and the rustle of his clothes when he moves. No sounds slip through the locked door in the corner. At least he presumes it’s locked. They wouldn’t want to risk any runners when they bring in actual criminals. 

Not him, though. He hasn’t done anything. 

Or, technically that’s not entirely true. He had been sloshed, seeing double and rooms spinning, all that. Might’ve even taken a shot at someone but in all fairness that had been in self defense. 

But he hadn’t touched him.

Even just the thought makes Dan’s stomach clench and lungs snap like a stretched out rubber band just released. He feels nausea like a rotten hand grip his guts, slowly twisting them and he hugs his arms around his stomach as best he can with the cuffs on his wrists.

The reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite him stares at him. It looks pale and dark circles pull at its eyes and for a moment Dan thinks he’s actually going to be sick.

Gone.

He’s gone now, the only thing he has left of him is the necklace he’d bought Dan when they’d visited Paris in the spring. 

He feels it now, hanging around his neck, heavier and heavier. It burns and he closes his eyes. Burns itself into his heart.

Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be him? There had been so many other people in the pub that night. Many who hadn’t had someone with them. Alone and easy targets. Why him?

Who could be so cruel as to take him from Dan? It’s not fair. 

He slams his fist on the table, the loud sound bouncing on the walls again and again. 

When would the damn interrogator arrive? Hadn’t he been sat in here long enough? Hadn’t he been through enough, losing his entire world in a matter of excruciating seconds?

He pulls at the cuffs but of course nothing happens except angry red patches blooming on his skin under the metal. Resigned, he lays his forehead against the cool table and tries to shut everything but his thumping pulse out.

_Blue eyes. There are specks of gold and green in them but in this light they’re almost iceblue but the look in them is warmer than the sun itself._

_Music and damp bodies. Flashes of light; blue, red, green. The strong smell of alcohol seeps around them. Fragmented conversations with no meaning and stolen touches under the spotlights._

_“Wanna go?”_

_Blue eyes and they meet his own. They smile and the warmth and joy of a hot summer day gleam at Dan. “Can’t we stay for a little while?”_

_An ice cold shock snakes its way up Dan’s spine and makes him clench his teeth. “What if I don’t want to stay?”_

_Dan stares as pink lips pinch together and the blue eyes hide behind lashes._

The door creaks as it’s pushed open and it rips Dan back in the room where an older man is closing the door behind him. 

About time, Dan thinks. 

He sits up again and his body feels heavy, so heavy, and his thoughts whirl, no meaning and intangible like liquid. 

“Hello Daniel. I’m Officer Lee.” His voice is deep and serious. Seems like a good man, Dan decides. 

“Hello,” he mumbles. Officer Lee pulls out the chair across from him and sits down with a sigh.

“Can you tell me why you did it?” he asks. Dan looks up startled. His heart is about to rip its way out through his chest. The thought behind the handcuffs suddenly makes sense. 

He rubs his sweaty hands on his thighs, shorts moving up and down under his palms.

_“Leave him alone.”_

_“And what are you gonna do if I won’t?”_

_“I’m serious.”_

“Did what?” The words get stuck in his throat, choking him. He hasn’t done anything. 

“We have the proof, Daniel.”

“Proof of what?”

“You know what.”

It’s chilly in the room Dan realises suddenly, and it grips him violently then, the hairs on his arms rising. He looks away and the eyes he meets in the mirror are dark and cold. 

“Why do you think it was me?” It physically hurts him to say the words out loud but you can’t hold a conversation if only one person talks. 

“As I said, we have proof.” Officer Lee’s eyes are big and grave. They bore into Dan’s. 

Dan swallows and folds his hands in front of himself as he asks, “What proof?”

“Phil.”

Dan can feel the tears building up like a flood behind his eyelids but he can’t do anything to stop them streaming down his cheeks at the sound of his name. 

_“Phil!”_

_Dan finds them in the dark corner of the alley. The water drips from leaky gutters and the smell wraps around him like a snake. The scream slashes its way into Dan’s bone marrow and the rage flares up inside him._

“I swear it wasn’t me who did it!” Dan looks imploringly at Officer Lee who stares back unfazed. 

_Punches. Kicks. Pain. Blood. The blood runs freely, drips down in the puddles on the asphalt and amalgamates with the water._

“No.” His hands are shaking. Making the chains rattle. The sound rings in his ears and he cringes. “No, no, no, no. It was that guy. The guy who hit on him and I asked him to stay away but he didn’t. He kept doing it. Pulled him into the alley. I found them and pushed the guy away from him. Maybe I punched him too. But I wouldn’t ever hurt Ph—” Dan’s voice cracks and he curls in on himself as the pain in his heart burns throughout his whole body. “Him. Wouldn’t ever hurt him.”

_Red. Everything is red. The wall, the street, hands and sky. Red._

“Daniel. Look at your underarm. You have three long lacerations from when he scratched you in the alley.”

_It is dark red and it is warm. It feels as if it burns where it touches his freezing fingers. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that it doesn’t, can’t._

_In the distance he can hear a choir of shrill sirens singing into the night._

“No… They’re from the wire mesh I landed on when the guy shoved me.” Why doesn’t the officer believe him? He hasn’t done anything. How could he even think that Dan would ever be able to do something like this to him?

“Can I ask you to look at your knees?” 

Dan hesitates but the grave look in the officer’s eyes forces him to slowly bend his head down and let his eyes slide across his knees.

“Do you see any forms of abrasions, bruises or other things to indicate that you could have fallen?” 

The only thing Dan sees is the red patches from his sweaty hands’ ceaseless rubbing up and down his thighs. 

_Hands are painted in crimson and the police cars throw blue and red lights upon the scene, making it look like an absurd kind of disco._

_Red, red, red._

_Red as the blood staining his lips like he’s wearing lipstick, smudged like he’s been kissed._

“Can you explain to me why we found your DNA under Phil’s nails?”

Dan opens his mouth to say something but closes it instantly again because the only sound he thinks will come out is a scream. The name races in his head, around and around and around and he’s going crazy, why does the officer keep saying his name? 

“We found your blood on his body. If you didn’t touch him then where did it come from?”

It’s impossible. His chest feels like it’s being ripped apart from the inside and his eyes are stinging as if he’s opened them in a pool of acid. 

_He lets go of the pale hand and turns around. He’s immediately blinded by a bright white light and he feels dizzy._

_The world is spinning and the ground beneath his feet is moving._

_He can’t stand up straight and the stars are shining from behind his closed eyelids._

_The voice is firm and strong and cuts right through everything._

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Dan— My name is Daniel Howell.” It’s said with a voice like thin ice, about to crack if you drop a single needle on it._

“Eyewitnesses claim to have seen only one person around Phil all night. They claim that you pulled him with you into the alley.”

How is this possible?

“What’s going on? What’s happening? I don’t— I dont understand.” His voice is weak and shaking.

“Daniel Howell.” A shock shoots through Dan’s entire body. “You’re accused of the murder of Phil Lester and you will be sent before a judge within the next 24 hours.”

The reflection in the mirror staring at Dan as the door closes behind the officer smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm on tumblr too at [bie-lovers](https://bie-lovers.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi, but no pressure.  
> You can also give this fic a [reblog/like](https://bie-lovers.tumblr.com/post/179423599561/and-as-the-clock-turns-over) on tumblr if you want to. :)


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